Life
by GlassBomb
Summary: No man was an island. Not even a Superman.


Life

Mirage stood twenty metres away from him, and she could predict his face perfectly. Though his body was bowed forwards in a defeated gesture, she knew what she'd see; tearstains, perhaps even tears that glowed against the pale skin, agonised eyes and an expression of complete despair.

Approaching this man, she suddenly realised, was a suicide mission. No, not approaching him, but freeing him - it would leave her to suffer a fate akin to that of an incredibly painful death. Especially her being who she was; she'd helped in their destruction, after all. Guilt swarmed through her veins as she acknowledged how unnecessary their apparent loss had been, and anger invaded her at how blind she'd been to Syndrome's blatant using of her.

Dismissing the latter emotion from her mind, she swallowed and cleared her mental processes. It might well be the literal death of her, but she had to tell him that he was suffering for nothing, and that his wife and children were alive - somehow.

The thought of informing him before she let him go felt the safest option - however, she knew she owed this courageous man before her significantly more than that.

She heard a small sob emanate from the broken individual, drawing a tear from the mysterious woman. He was so brave. Much more of a humanitarian and an enigma than her employer could have hoped to have been. He had threatened to murder her before; she felt that this time, he might just succeed.

But she had to try. She couldn't stand his misery. She'd never encountered his family, yet she felt distressed - only God knew how their husband and father felt at their deaths.

Gulping a little, Mirage stepped over silently to the mechanism that held him captive, and gently pressed a small, green button.

He fell forwards, smashing into the ground much harder than she'd have liked. For a moment, he simply stayed in the position he had collapsed into - as soon as she rushed towards him, however, he snapped up.

"There isn't much time," she told him, frightened of what he was about to do.

Her air supply was abruptly cut off as his hand wrapped her throat - a hand that, she wasn't shocked to discover, was shaking violently. As his face rose to meet hers, she realised how accurate her estimation of his expression had been.

"No, there isn't," Mr. Incredible growled, his voice both furious and pained. "In fact, there's no time at all."

Mirage saw that spark of fright in his eyes that she'd so often associated with the death that accompanied her job - that feeling of complete hopelessness. To this man, there was nothing. Before, he'd been bound by his ethical instincts; now, the very idea of them was pointless.

She'd reduced a hero to a villain.

Her mother would have been proud.

Her mind swam at the thought - that, however, may just have been the lack of oxygen her brain was receiving and the intense pain that his hand crushing her windpipe had brought on.

There was no talking to this man, she realised instantly. She'd be dead in under a minute if this kept up.

So she did the next best thing.

"I beg to differ," she choked out, waving her air-starved arm and halting the scene. Time stopped; the room was timeless, effortless - empty. Nothing moved, except for Mirage herself. Mr. Incredible's agonised expression was hovering in suspended animation, as was his entire body, thus allowing the slim woman to peel apart his fingers and drop to the ground, gasping and coughing.

The silver-haired beauty glanced around, no noise issuing from the machine that had held the desperate man hostage merely sixty seconds ago. Everything was still; the device's laser restraints didn't writhe around, the control panel had stopped its rhythmic murmur, and the Super before her wasn't budging an inch. Beyond the walls, Mirage knew she'd created the same effect - everything and everyone on the island she called home wasn't capable of shifting a millimetre.

For the first time in a minute and a half, Mirage properly inhaled once more, exhaling rapidly as she noticed the man's face.

Moving closer now the danger of the situation had been diffused, she stepped between his chest and the arm that had been destroying her oesophagus, and surveyed the facial panic.

There was, the mystifying Super acknowledged instantly, no other word for it aside from desperation. It portrayed so much; rage, fear, panic, love, hopelessness and loneliness. So, so alone. No man was an island; not even a Superman. She leaned in nearer, standing upon tiptoes to analyse the rest of him. Upon close inspection, she could see the patches of tears that littered his face. Mirage couldn't see how he was coping with the reality of such nightmares; his eyes told her that the situation was threatening to drive him insane with grief. She now found herself fully able to comprehend why he'd been sobbing when she'd left his personal cell several hours prior to this moment.

Another lonely tear streaked down her face as she realised what else she could see within him - betrayal. He'd trusted her. He'd had no reason not to; he was a caring individual who'd never intentionally harm anyone who didn't threaten civilians or his family. And she'd reduced him to this - a mess of a man who wanted nothing more than to extract revenge and then join his loved ones in death. His morals were destroyed and his life was crushed.

No wonder he'd wanted her dead.

The tear dripped off her chin as she softly pressed her lips to his own, whispering how sorry she was for what he'd gone through at her hands. She knew how much betrayal hurt - she'd experienced it that very same day, when her boss and supposed friend had dared this male to kill her.

Mirage closed her eyes, her tears evaporating as she regained emotional control. Manoeuvring an unsteady hand, she swiped it through the air and allowed Mr. Incredible's head freedom of movement.

"What the HELL have you done?!" He roared instantly, immediately realising that he couldn't move and that he consequently wasn't bringing about her demise.

She forced herself to be strong.

"I'm a Super," she commented as gently as possible. "I specialise in stopping time."

His eyes were killing every last particle of her resolve.

"Why are you doing this?"

The question was simple, the tone emotionless. She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by his desperate rants.

"How can you _possibly_ bring me lower? What _more_ can you take away from me?!"

The despair was extending to his voice now, and any attempts at subtlety on his part were instantly dismissed.

She had to halt his grief now, she knew, before all her self-restriction vanished. She was running out of time. Had the situation not been so completely unfunny, she'd have laughed at the irony - she could manipulate it, and it was evading her.

"Your family -" she began, frantic to inform him of their fate, but he interrupted almost immediately.

"- were everything. Still are. Always will be. And you and your bastard of a boss slaughtered them. Why, Mirage? Why? Tell me, please, because I'm REALLY not getting it!"

He was crying again, his tone urgent, and she drank within the pain of his every darting glance.

"I expected anger," she murmured, more to herself than to the male Super, but he heard regardless.

"And I expect an answer!"

Her eyes met his, and all her resolve disappeared in a heartbeat. She couldn't even answer him. Why had she done it? Because Syndrome had asked her to? The man who, until he'd gambled upon her life so carelessly, she'd thought she loved?

"I…"

Her voice trailed off, engulfing itself in pity for the man before her. Yes, she had to tell him that his family were alive - but she owed him a thorough explanation first.

The problem was, she didn't have one. She could think all day, and she wouldn't come up with a single response. It had been against all her morals and personal wishes - but Syndrome had asked.

She gritted her teeth at how idiotic she'd been.

"What's the matter?" He taunted, and Mirage knew how out of character it was for this man to jeer at anyone, even a sworn enemy. "Guilty conscience?"

Her gaze met his, her eyes deep and upset, his distraught and cold.

"You must let me speak," she said, her words faltering slightly.

"You've said too much already," the man snapped, his voice deadly now.

She felt a tear vault her emotional wall and slide down her cheek.

"You need to hear it," she said, almost pleading now.

"The last thing I need is a patronising lecture from you, witch," he snarled with venom lining his throat, his expression twisted and lethal.

"You need -" she started, but neither Bob Parr nor Mr. Incredible were listening to rationality anymore.

"I need my family," he whispered, the anger suddenly evaporating. "I need to wake up in my wife's arms, so I know that all this is just some sort of sick nightmare and that I haven't lost them. It's just a dream. I'm not alone."

He didn't try to stop the tears that accompanied his haunted words.

He was denying it all; this didn't exist to him. It was a twisted display of REM and inner turmoil that would be perfectly sated after a kiss from his beloved and a muttered reassurance that she wouldn't leave him.

The realisation made Mirage want to physically hold him in her embrace until he believed it and had begun to heal. Evidently, this literally incredible man couldn't cope with the reality of his present. It made the independent woman feel nauseated, to appreciate what she had driven him to.

"I trusted you," he said, his voice cracking. "I liked you. I thought you understood me; all a lie, was it?"

"No!" She answered instantly, honestly; she did find him a very diligent and loving man. "Listen, you must hear me out!"

The Super within him wanted to scream, to argue, to question whatever she had to say - but the father and the husband didn't have the strength left to hear anyone out, least of all Mirage. This was the part of the nightmare that he normally woke up directly after. All that both the hero and the human could do was hope; hope that this mental torment would end shortly, and that it really was only a product of a heavy sleep. He'd originally believed that they were truly dead, and he hadn't been able to cope. He'd sobbed and shouted and screamed retribution at anything, nothing and everything.

No. He was dreaming. He had to be.

He wasn't. He knew it, she knew it. But as long as he clung to the delusion, he could save himself from the agony that the truth brought.

"Robert Parr, your family aren't dead!"

He smirked to himself, realising with a bitter stroke that his delusions had now extended to the world outside his mind. He could have sworn that Mirage had just said that Helen, Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack weren't deceased.

"Mr. Incredible, you must listen to me!" Mirage begged, moving closer to him and attempting to attract his attention.

"Leave me alone," he requested, begging to be left with his thoughts for now. It was probably a stupid move; after all, being alone was one of his greatest fears. But it seemed like a better option than being dictated to by his family's murderer.

"You don't have to be alone," she murmured, her hand placing itself upon his muscular cheek. He flinched away as best he could, furious at her hypocritical gesture of comfort.

"Please listen to me," she pleaded, brushing away the wet spots that lined his face. "Just let me say this, and I'll leave. I promise you that."

"Get your hands off me," he snarled. "Lack of contact precedes discussion."

She obeyed, placing her hands down by her sides as she spoke.

"Your family… they're alive. They're on the island."

A flare of hope illuminated within the broken man, which he immediately quelled - she was toying with him. He knew that she was lying. He'd heard them perish via an audio link. They'd only been there to save him…

"Oh god," he whispered, recalling the second it had happened. "It's all my fault…"

His tears cascaded over her shaking hands and she swooped her hand through the still air, allowing him to fall into her arms, crying. Neither side of Bob's personality wanted to hug this woman. He'd never wanted to hug anyone less in his life. But she was there, she was available - and while she was with him, he wasn't alone.

Blinking back her own tears, she concentrated, utilised the reverse aspect of her power - the ability to quicken the pace of time - and soon had his wife sprinting through corridors, so close to him yet so far.

"Robert, she's here," Mirage whispered into his ear. "Helen's here."

He knew he should have stood up and walked away from all of this; from this traitor, from this situation, and from everything he'd once been. Regain that heartless attitude he'd once shown Buddy Pine.

But that would require movement. And right now, he didn't think he was quite capable of doing something so basic yet so important.

So instead he stayed, embracing the partial cause of his pain, consistently berating himself for being so pathetic and wishing how this wasn't Mirage, but Elastigirl he was leaning into.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Bob's head shot up, cold recognition flooding into him as Mirage was inadvertently thrown backwards.

Standing in the doorframe and looking fairly annoyed was his wife.

"Helen," he whispered, standing and making his way over to her. Seeing how his eyes shone with tears and his face was still streaked with them, her anger faded and her concern ignited.

"Bob…?" She murmured, her tone worried. He'd obviously been crying, and as she got closer to him, she could clearly witness the torment and darkness shadowed within his irises.

"Helen?" he repeated, rubbing his despairing eyelids and grabbing himself a small fold of excess skin, which twanged back to its original position when he let go. Drawing to mere centimetres from her slim frame, he stared for a moment longer, then grasped her hand, pulling her close against him and holding her as he wept.

"I love you," he murmured, crushing her against his significantly larger body. "So much…"

He sobbed into her, and she kept him close, oblivious to the reason for his sorrow.

"Bob, tell me what's wrong," Helen pleaded, pushing herself outwards slightly from his chest to meet his soaked gaze.

"I heard it hit," he cried, and she drank in the complete distress his eyes exhibited. "I heard the m-missile, and s-she said…"

"God," she thought aloud, reeling closer to her husband, being unable to imagine what it must have felt like to have their family seemingly stripped away from him in a heartbeat, never to return.

"I thought you were dead. I need you, and I thought…"

He allowed his voice to trail off, simply thankful to have his wife back, leaning down to kiss her tenderly.

"Never leave me," he implored, and she nodded sombrely, his intense words making her realise that she never could.

He looked frightened once more now, and she felt him inhale sharply against her as his liquified lashes gazed upon her.

"The kids…" he blurted out, his whisper hushed. Acknowledgement swept through Helen; naturally, if he thought she was dead, he'd think they were too…

"They're fine," she assured. "They're asleep on the other side of the island."

She felt his frame become restored as he let out the harsh breath, cuddling her against his form, purely relishing the feeling of the woman he loved and couldn't survive without.

"You alright, Bob?"

He looked down at his wife with a smile, his tears dissipating to nothing as he watched Mirage stand over her shoulder, shaking herself free of dust and grit from her impact with the ground.

"I am now."

And as their lips met, he knew that he'd always be alright while he had them all.


End file.
